


i am still painting flowers for you

by aavonlea



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Artist & Florist, Angst, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romance, clexa tafau
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-28 18:36:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3865432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aavonlea/pseuds/aavonlea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clexa Tattoo Artist/Florist AU</p><p>“I’ll be with you in a moment,” the girl called back as she picked up a vase out of one of the crates.</p><p>Clarke was smiling, genuinely smiling, because this was ridiculous and perfect. She’d told Bellamy that for her to find something new she might have to go back to something old, but this wasn’t exactly what she was expecting.</p><p>“Lexa?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. strange maze, what is this place? (i hear voices over my shoulder)

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooooo yeah my hand slipped and this is the result. I'd really love to know what you guys think! In future chapters I'll do a warning for any triggers.

 

**When I wake up**

**The dream isn't done**

**I wanna see your face and know I made it home.**

**If nothing is true**

**What more can I do?**

**I am still painting flowers for you.**

* * *

Clarke’s eyes shot open to the sound of muffled yelling through the walls. She turned over in her bed to glance with sleep-filled eyes at the time. _6:00 AM_ blinked back at her and she stifled back a weary groan as the volume in the apartment next door increased.

_“And just be sure to get your ass to the grocery store today!”_

Maybe if she could just close her eyes and settle back into the bed, she could sleep for just a few more --

The sudden and piercing sound of barking from yet another apartment cracked through the atmosphere of her room, completely dashing _those_ hopes away. Did her apartment building even allow pets?

With the brilliant neighbors she’d scored herself, who would ever need an alarm clock?

Well, at least it would allow her an early start to her first day of work. Maybe she could treat herself to a coffee and bagel at the cafe building next door while she was left to contemplate for perhaps the hundredth time in the last week how she got to this point. She knew the answer, of course, but it didn’t stop her from carefully inspecting the timeline of the past two years in much greater detail than necessary. The past two years were the reason the last few days had held the most sleepless nights of her life for her.

(Which was actually kind of saying something.)

Two years ago, Clarke would’ve called the person she was now a coward. One year ago, she would’ve shaken her head at someone like the person she’d become, silently promising to never let anything turn her into _that_. Six months ago, she’d already begun to wonder what would even be the merit in keeping that promise to herself. One week ago, she had decided there was no point in trying to keep up the strong and resilient face. One week ago was the day she broke her promise to herself, her promise to not run away.

Clarke had always been the person to face her problems head on, make a way to get through them, and then be done with them before moving on to the next problem (because there was always a new problem, not in a pessimistic way but in a way in that she always had something she could be working on, fixing). She just didn’t know if there was a way to get herself through _this_ problem, _the_ problem. Running away felt like a good option when facing the issue meant saying to herself every day “there’s no way to move forward, you’re stuck, fucking deal with it” or something like that.

Today, she could finally understand the people who ran away. Today, she would look back on two years ago and wonder if she’d imagined it all; everything had changed, from her career path to whom she could hold a conversation with (without feel the urge to shut down). The only thing that was the same out of all of it, the only thing that had remained constant from two years ago, was the fact that she’d still call the person she was now a coward. She was a coward, no matter what way she decided to spin it.

Whatever. She had other things to think about at the moment, like getting ready for the day ahead of her.

A hot shower, while managing to pull her out of her half-asleep state, wasn’t very effective with soothing the persistent ache at the back of her head, although she didn’t really expect that to go away. She would get stress headaches from time to time, and in the past six days it had been ever-present. It would settle down again soon.

Hopefully.

Maybe. If her damn phone would stop pushing notifications at her, informing her of all the missed calls and voicemails and text messages she hadn’t even bothered to look at in several days. Yeah, if it could just stop doing that, maybe then she’d get a few seconds of peace. Her latest notifications might have pulled the same tired groan from her as the rest if they didn’t bear the name Bell on them.

She chanced it.

**6:04AM**

**Jerkbucket Bell**

_Hey dipshit_

**6:04AM**

**Jerkbucket Bell**

_If you answer this I swear to_

_never upload an embarrassing_

_vid of you to youtube again_

**6:04AM**

**Jerkbucket Bell**

_And you can have a donut_

_or something idk_

**6:05AM**

**Jerkbucket Bell**

_If you don’t then I will do_

_something unspeakably awful to_

_you_

**6:05AM**

**Jerkbucket Bell**

_As soon as I figure out the awful_

_thing I’ll let you know but trust me_

_it’ll be bad :P_

**6:06AM**

**Jerkbucket Bell**

_You have 1 hour_

She was going to have to talk to one of them eventually. Knowing her mother, Abby might’ve already set up some kind of manhunt for her. And out of all of them, Bellamy was the least likely to try forcing her to go back home. She didn’t have any time to consider it before her phone vibrated in her hand again.

**6:18AM**

**Jerkbucket Bell**

_Clarke I can see that you read this_

**6:18AM**

**Jerkbucket Bell**

_Message me back damn it_

She silently cursed the little _Read 6:16AM_ that the damn phone felt the need to announce, before she began typing out a reply.

**6:19AM**

**Dipshit Griffin**

_why are you up so early?_

**6:19AM**

**Jerkbucket Bell**

_Echo goes for morning jogs_

**6:19AM**

**Jerkbucket Bell**

_I got woken up from her alarm_

**6:19AM**

**Dipshit Griffin**

_my condolences_

**6:19AM**

**Jerkbucket Bell**

_Whatever smartass_

**6:20AM**

**Jerkbucket Bell**

_Wait. Hold on_ …

Her phone lit up, her ringtone -- the first blasting few notes of “Centuries” -- beginning to play with Bellamy’s contact photo appearing on the screen. She hesitated for only a second before swiping the screen and bringing the phone to her ear.

“What’s up dipshit?” were Bellamy’s first words, _dipshit_ laced with a kind of affectionate sarcasm that Bellamy only dished out to a select few people.

“I’m sorry.”

She wasn’t. Or maybe she was, she felt like she could’ve been sorry on some level. But an apology was probably the best way to start the conversation she’d been dreading for the past few days.

“Sorry for taking off with half your stuff and leaving just a note to let us know you’re not dead? Sorry for your mom hounding us for a week to get a hold of you? Sorry for stealing my last box of oreos before you left?” he said with still further sarcasm. She knew he was only teasing, and somehow it managed to pull a light laugh from her.

“Yeah, basically. Especially the oreos, God knows you can’t live without them.”

“Where are you?” Bellamy asked, and this time his voice carried a certain level of cool concern that felt all too familiar coming from Bell.

She sighed. “I’m in D.C.” she said slowly, then went on, “I’m fine. You can tell my mom that I’m fine if I don’t talk to her soon. I just need some space right now. And _please_ , don’t try bringing me back.”

“Hey, hey, don’t worry Griffin, I wasn’t planning on forcing you to go anywhere,” he said with a reassuring laugh, and Clarke was glad that she hadn’t been wrong in at least that regard. Bellamy wouldn’t be the one to try convincing her to come running back.

“Thanks,” she breathed out.

“Are you okay though?” Again that concern was back, and she had to bite back a laugh at how much Bellamy acted like a big brother.

“I’m fine. I’ve got a place to stay and I’m starting a job at a tattoo place today,” she said.

“You got a _job?_ How long are you planning on staying in D.C.?”

“I don’t know. I need a change of scenery, something different, something new.” She stopped herself before saying that she had tried all that she could already, that she needed something else entirely, something she hadn’t thought of. “How are the others?”

“Octavia is spending just as much time talking about what a dick you are as she is saying she hopes you’re okay,” Bellamy said with another laugh. “Jasper’s pretty pissed but he and Monty are just worried about you.”

He paused, the silence speaking volumes. Clarke’s headache sharpened at this.

“And Raven?” Clarke asked tentatively. She heard a sigh coming through on Bellamy’s end, only confirming Clarke’s fears.

“Not gonna lie, Clarke. Raven went a little bit like the Hulk after she read that note. My ears are still ringing,” Bellamy said. “You know she loves you -- hell, I don’t know anybody so disgustingly close as you two morons, except maybe Monty and Jas -- but you also know she’s the last person in the world to take any shit.”

“I know, but I didn’t make this decision because of any of you guys. I did it for me,” Clarke said, popping a couple of Advil tablets in her mouth to try getting her worsening headache under control. She gathered her bag together and gave one last withering look to her apartment for the morning -- it didn’t look bad at all, in fact it was pretty nice, but the location with the neighbors meant she was definitely going to be woken up again -- before heading out. She made sure to double check the locks on her door before leaving the apartment and making for the stairwell.

“Don’t give me that bull, Clarke.” Bellamy’s words were icy cold. This was exactly why she’d been dreading talking to them. But even as she began to consider ending the call then and there, Bellamy’s voice softened. “Do you honestly think this is going to change anything?”

No.

Yes.

Maybe.

She stayed silent for a few minutes while descending the flights of stairs, thinking of what to say next. To Bellamy’s credit, he left her to sort through her thoughts and didn’t say a word.

“I needed something new, Bell. And sometimes to find something new you have to go back to something old,” she said finally, going down the last flight of stairs and walking out the building. The air was warm under the clear sunshine, and it carried back to her smells that sent her back in time to nearly a decade ago. “I know D.C. like the back of my thumb, Bell. It’s my old home. I can handle myself.”

“God damn it C, any idiot knows you can handle yourself. That’s not what any of us are worried about. You _need_ to talk about this sometime.”

“Enlighten me, please. What would talking about it change?”

“Nothing,” he said, conceding that to her. “But it’ll help. I’m not going to come dragging you back to Annapolis, C. You do what you need to do and I’ll support you, but this isn’t healthy.”

“And since when have I cared about what’s healthy?” she said, her voice heavy with dead snark. The kind that she had a habit of dishing out heavily after a few beers.

(Everyone always told her she could be an ass when drunk. Her fun side came with a dark bluntness.)

“ _Well_ , it’s a good thing I’m here to care about it for you.” Ah yes, Bellamy the big brother friend (or the mom friend rather) of the group makes his appearance. “You should talk to someone Clarke. In the meantime, call at least once every couple days. If you don’t then I can’t make any promises to keep O from dragging your sorry ass back to Polis.”

“Fine.”

“Talk to you later,” he said, then added, “and don’t forget that we’re your friends, Clarke.”

A lump in her throat formed before the call even ended, and now she was standing in the middle of the sidewalk blinking back tears. Her phone vibrated again before she’d even let out the shuddering breath that was building in her chest.

**6:32AM**

**Jerkbucket Bell**

_Don’t be a stranger dipshit :P_

**6:32AM**

**Dipshit Griffin**

_whatever jerkbucket_

She didn’t go into her other messages. There were too many to even start at and she really didn’t feel like tackling that mountain this early in the morning. At least the Advil would kick in soon and then this headache would be gone for a few hours. The long term solution would, of course, be to get some more sleep and find an outlet for stress, but that didn’t feel likely at this point in time.

Walking down the street, which was now just starting to wake up as the sun began to slowly rise over the horizon, her eyes began to search out the little cafe two blocks away. It didn’t take her long to find it -- she’d been there before, but it was a long time ago -- and soon she was holding a warm bagel in one hand and a hot coffee in the other while walking down a semi-familiar path through the blocks.

 _“Walking down memory lane”_ now had a new significance for her. Making her way down the road, it felt like she was going back to her childhood and God she’s missed D.C. She’d visited once before since moving away, a last minute scramble to see Wells off before he was set to start in the military. She hadn’t had a chance to enjoy the city she’d grown up in on that occasion, since she had to be back in Annapolis the following morning for Raven’s birthday.

Now that she was back to stay for awhile, she could take everything in, all the things that changed and all the parts that remained constant. She passed by a line of trees that had been just freshly planted before she moved, and now they were gaining height, some of them sporting birds’ nests. There was a building that back then might’ve been an ice cream shop, or perhaps a small restaurant, but was now empty with the doors barred shut, the signs stripped away. Then there was the park that she’d always enjoyed spending time in back in freshman year of high school -- she still had the drawings of it in her sketchbooks somewhere lying around -- that looked more or less the same.

Sure, a couple of the trees appeared to have been cut down, and different parts of the view were now blocked by new buildings, but her old favorite spot -- a bench beneath an old oak tree -- was still intact and unchanged. It was here that she sat down (the bench was even more creaky and full of splinters than she remembered) and ate the last bite of her bagel, before pulling the fresh sketchbook out of her bag. It was still only 6:45 in the morning, meaning she still had an hour to kill before she’d have to start walking back in the direction of the tattoo parlor.

In a way she was glad for her obnoxious neighbors. They gave her the opportunity to get reaquainted with her city, her neighborhood, her place of origin. This place had nice memories attached to it, and for a moment she could pretend she wasn’t sad about that.

The river was in view from where she was sitting, the water reflecting the vibrant colors of the sky as the sun rose. Clarke used to come here at sunset to draw the river like that. Even though the positions of the lights were completely different, it still made for a nice picture, as was made evident from Clarke’s hand beginning to form the image on the sketch paper.

Wells used to make fun of her for the trance she always went into when drawing -- right before spending entire allowances, and later paychecks, on art supplies for her. She’d told him to stop spending so much on her, but he never listened. His face would light up whenever he showed up at her house one day with an art gift (sometimes a paint set, other times a nice sketchbook) and she was never able to keep the wonder off her face upon seeing whatever it was he had to give her, which would make Wells even happier to do it. She returned the favor in the form of books (a lot of them) on birthdays and holidays. Wells was probably the most well-read teenage boy she’d ever encountered; he always had something to read on hand and it made for decent debates about Harry Potter. Wells was one of the people Clarke had missed most.

 _I should really try to visit him soon,_ Clarke thought with a sad smile as the paper in her lap came to life in an explosion of color.

The colored pencils in her hand flew over the page, filling in the water and the streets and the spaces in between. She particularly enjoyed how drawing this view made her pay attention to small details, maybe see more of the changes, more of what’s stayed the same thus far and what’s gone forever. Was that a new building at the end of the block? And what happened to the houses across from the water?

Her phone vibrated in her jacket pocket. She ignored it.

Soon enough though, she was making the trip back through the blocks, past her apartment building and towards the rows of businesses on the next block down. At least she had the first drawing of her new sketchbook down before having to go to work. _Ark Tattoos_ was a nice place, decorated by a mural spanning the length of each of the walls. It was operated by decent people. The block the parlor was located at held an eclectic set of businesses -- the immediate neighbors were an antique shop, a hobby shop, and a flower shop. It was absurd and completely fitting.

“Hey, Sterling. Reporting for duty,” she said as she walked through the door, offering the guy a smile. He returned the greeting with a warm grin.

Her phone vibrated again.

**7:38AM**

**Fucknugget Blake**

_psssssst dipshit, bell said_

_he talked to you_

**7:56AM**

**Fucknugget Blake**

_tell me about your new place_

_later, kay?_

**7:56AM**

**Fucknugget Blake**

_it’s getting boring round here,_

_i need to talk to my sort of_

_sister again_

**7:56AM**

**Fucknugget Blake**

_dipshit :P_

**7:56AM**

**Fucknugget Blake**

_i promise to not mention the_

_stolen oreos if you call_

**7:57AM**

**Fucknugget Blake**

_good luck on the first day at_

_work :P_

Clarke found herself smiling at this. Bellamy and Octavia made her wonder why she was at all dreading going through the messages (she knew why, but the Blake siblings were still a dream).

**7:57AM**

**Princess Dipshit**

_thanks, and will do, fucknugget_

**7:57AM**

**Fucknugget Blake**

_;)_

* * *

Clarke could admit to herself that, in hindsight, it was rather foolish to let success with the Blakes lull her into a false sense of security. Not everyone was going to be so lax about the stunt she pulled, and looking back, she wondered what could have been going through her head at the time when she decided to dial that one number on her lunch break. Her mother had picked up on the first ring and the next several minutes were spent in a fierce shouting match in the back room.

 _“Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?!”_ and _“How could you do that?!”_ and _“I was on the verge of calling in the national guard when you didn’t come home that night” “I don’t think that’s what the national guard is for, Mom,” “Is that really what you are focusing on here Clarke?!”_ were a few of the words exchanged. After five minutes of shouting loud enough to leave her ears ringing, Abby said the magic words: “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Mom,” she said back, letting out a long breath.

“I’m coming to get you.”

“No. You will not.” Clarke said this as firmly as was possible without provoking more screaming.

“Clarke, you need to be home,” Abby sounded tired and exasperated.

“D.C. is home too, Mom. I need to not be in Annapolis right now, okay? And besides, I’m an adult, you can’t force me to come back.”

“Clarke, I am your mother. I know what’s best for you,” Abby said, her voice lowering as anger set in again.

“Well, in the long run, that doesn’t matter, does it? You may be my mother, but I’m the one who makes the decisions concerning myself,” she said and _damn,_ she was going to regret that one in a few seconds.

Three minutes later, she was walking out of the back room in a huff, having gotten another earful before telling her mother that she would be staying in D.C. as long as she likes and that Abby was in no uncertain terms allowed to call her if it was just to convince Clarke to go back to Annapolis.

“I need some air,” she said to Sterling in response to his questioning looks.

The sunshine in her eyes blinded her for a second when she stepped out onto the sidewalk into the warm air. Everything around her was quiet, a sharp but welcoming contrast to her phone call, but it did nothing to quell her frustration.

“So much for making good with Mom,” Clarke mumbled to herself. She needed to wind down, maybe take a walk down the road or go back to the cafe for lunch. Anything to get rid of the itchy lump in her throat and the headache that was now returning with a vengeance.

She almost walked right past the shop, but out of the corner of her eye Clarke caught sight of her through the glass front, and she suddenly found that her feet were stuck to the sidewalk, all anger in her system forgotten. She couldn’t keep walking down the street even if she wanted to. Clarke’s eyes trained in on the woman standing beside the counter inside the store. She had her hair braided down her back and out of her face, and she was wearing a blue button-up and black leather pants, and everything about this girl was pulling at something in Clarke’s head. Maybe Clarke would be able to put two and two together if her mind hadn’t gone blank. She was just standing there staring in at this woman who was sorting through flowers, completely unaware that she’d managed to make someone outside mentally and physically blank out.

 _Holy frick,_ was Clarke’s first tangible thought.

Slowly, she came back to herself. She stepped back a couple feet to get a look at the overhead sign -- _Woods Flowers_ \-- and suddenly she wanted to burst out laughing or slap herself for not being aware of this little detail of her workplace earlier, maybe both. And in the back of her head Clarke knew that she shouldn’t have been that surprised to find her in D.C. but she still couldn’t help but feel shocked.

Okay, maybe the surprise was because, out of _all_ people, Clarke never expected _her_ to remain in the city.

Clarke found that her feet were moving of their own accord in the direction of the entrance to the flower shop. The girl had moved to the doorway in back of the counter and was apparently searching through crate, still unaware that she had Clarke’s full attention. Clarke registered the sound of a bell as she walked through the door.

Clarke stood there for a moment, her eyes still trained on the girl and hoping that when the girl finally turned around, her first (first?) impression of Clarke was not that she was creepy (because staring this hard at anyone probably looked really fucking weird but Clarke just couldn’t stop). Clarke noticed all of the differences immediately: she was taller, albeit only slightly; her figure had matured since Clarke last saw her. She noticed some of the things that were the same too, like the way her hair looked when braided down her back, or the way her outfit was almost like a name tag because it was just so completely her aesthetic, or the pale scar on the side of her neck (Clarke was there when that happened, some might say Clarke was a part of the reason why it happened, but it was a great laugh in the end).

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” the girl called back as she picked up a vase out of one of the crates.

Clarke was smiling, genuinely smiling, because this was ridiculous and perfect. She’d told Bellamy that for her to find something new she might have to go back to something old, but this wasn’t exactly what she was expecting.

“Lexa?”

The sound of a crash and shattering glass echoed throughout the small shop, and Clarke didn’t have time to apologise before Lexa stood up straight and faced her.

 _The unexpected isn’t always bad,_ Clarke thought.

* * *

“Clarke?”

Lexa’s mind, for a solid five seconds, went completely blank. She stood stock-stick, looking back at the girl before finally managing to make her lips move and form the name. Clarke Griffin was standing in front of her for the first time since they were fifteen, eight years ago. Lexa wished she had a bit of warning so at least there wouldn’t be that stupid hazy look on her face.

“Um, sorry about the vase,” Clarke said, gesturing to the glass remains beside them.

Lexa was trying very hard to wipe the dumbstruck expression off her face, speaking was a whole different obstacle. A muffled “Huh?” was all she was able to get out, which sparked a laugh from Clarke.

The sound of it felt like a jolt of electricity. Her breath quickened, her pulse raced, and the tips of her fingers were shaking. It also brought on a genuine smile.

“The vase is kind of my fault. I can pay for it,” Clarke suggests with a shrug of her shoulders and a grin.

“Clarke Griffin.” So her voice was working after all. Nice.

“Surprise?”

“Clarke. Griffin.”

“That’s the name, don’t wear it out.”

 _“Clarke,”_ Lexa said incredulously, breathlessly. “What are you doing here?”

Lexa could see Clarke wringing her hands, a tentative look in her eyes beneath the jovial expression. Was Clarke _nervous?_ That was new… and oddly endearing…

“What am I doing back in the city? Or, what am I doing standing inside your fine establishment filled with delightfully scented plants?” Clarke replied humorously and perhaps a little sheepishly. “I’m going to be living in D.C. again for awhile. As for me standing in this spot? _That_ might be the happiest coincidence I’ll ever have the pleasure of experiencing.” Clarke paused for a moment, before saying with a soft smile, “My new job is in the tattoo place next door. I had no idea you were working here.”

Lexa knew she still had a stunned expression, but she didn’t feel too self-conscious about it. She was never all that good at taking surprises with a breeze, and besides, Clarke had never been the kind of person she was self-conscious around in the past. Clarke had a habit of lifting tension from just her mere presence in a room. It had been years, but that’s one thing about Clarke that Lexa was sure would never change.

“You’re staying?” she said, forcing her voice to not betray the emotions coursing through her.

(This couldn’t be actually happening. There was no way this girl had just miraculously appeared out of nowhere. There was no way she was actually standing in front of her. It felt like some childish fantasy, and more than anything, too good to be true. It had to be some silly dream… right?)

“Yeah, I moved into the apartment building down the street.”

“And you’ve started a position at Ark Tattoos? Without realizing it was directly next door to my flower shop... ?”

(Had Lexa hit her head in the back room? Maybe she was lying on the floor and this was really just the work of her unconscious imagination. This situation was ridiculously unlikely. That had to be the case.)

“Yes?”

“Really?”

(Lexa was struggling to make sense of the past two minutes of her life. She had always been a realist. Miracles do not exist. Fate was a rope that the foolish held onto like a lifeline. She refused to entertain the thought that her bad karma had ended, because she didn’t believe in karma in the first place.)

“Really,” Clarke said with a shaky breath.

Clarke stepped closer to her and, after a split second of hesitation, moved forward to throw her arms around Lexa. Lexa tensed for a moment, the alarms in her brain that were telling her that this girl was a mirage not quite lining up with the familiar warmth running through her at the very solid and very real touch.

(Holy frick.)

Clarke tensed as well, as Lexa still hadn’t moved to return the embrace. The blonde had just begun to withdraw when Lexa’s arms snaked around Clarke’s middle, and for a second Lexa could entertain the idea that maybe they were back in high school, that no time had passed and they were right back where they had left off. The corners of her lips turned up for a second at the idea, the image of the two of them eight years ago before Clarke’s family moved away.

(A dream, but not a bad one. And for once, not one filled with that worst kind of longing.)

“Hey, I still have almost half an hour left of my break. Can I buy you a coffee?” Clarke said, and Lexa had to wonder which god it was that was bringing all of this about and what was in it for them. Everything came with a price, after all.

“I’d like that,” Lexa replied, surprising herself at how quiet her voice sounded. She cleared her throat before continuing. “Just, um, just give me a moment.”

Lexa did a short jog -- her legs still worked even though they sort of felt like jelly? -- to the refrigerated back room at the back of the shop that stored freshly cut plants. Clarke’s eyes followed, smile never leaving her face (Clarke could imagine it would be hours before she finally stopped smiling). Lexa pushed open the door and her eyes immediately found the woman going through the bunches of baby’s breath.

“Er… I’m going out for a bit. Can you run the store on your own?” Lexa asked, putting everything she had into making sure her voice did not shake. She’d never hear the end of it if the other woman could hear that she was nervous.

“And handle all of these bustling customers by myself? I think I can handle it,” Anya said, gesturing vaguely through the wall to the silent and still interior of the building. She smirked, putting down the handfuls of white flowers and making her way toward Lexa and raising her eyebrows curiously at Lexa’s shell-shocked face.

“You okay Lex? You look like you just saw a ghost,” she said, pushing past her in the direction of the front counter and stopping dead in her tracks. Lexa almost found it comical, the way Anya switched her gaze back and forth between Lexa and Clarke with wide eyes. “Maybe that wasn’t so far off.”

“Hi Anya!” Clarke greeted happily with a little wave.

“Yello,” Anya said with a little wave of her own and laugh, her expression turning amused as she continued to peer between Lexa and Clarke. “I expect a detailed explanation for this when you get back. And you’re doing the dishes tonight in return for me taking care of this mess.” This mess, referring to the pile of shattered glass still sitting on the floor.

Lexa had to wonder if she was actually floating as she followed Clarke out the door, because her feet didn’t exactly feel like they were connected to the floor at all. Lexa might have been disappointed in herself at how easily her defenses had been totally dismantled, but she’d berate herself for it later. _Way_ later.

Even when Anya audibly laughed at her as she stumbled on the way out -- Anya would never let her hear the end of this, that was a given -- she couldn’t bring herself to do anything except go with it.

Because as crazy and unlikely as it sounded, Clarke Griffin, Lexa’s oldest best friend, might have actually just popped back into her life.


	2. wonder, why do we race? (when every day we're running in circles)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clarke and Lexa think back on some old memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Sorry this is a bit later than I would've originally posted it. I would've had this up a few days ago if I hadn't been swamped with projects at school. The next few weeks are still going to be busy until graduation, but then I've got the whole summer before college to write.
> 
> And PS: In case you can't tell after this chapter, I ship everyone X oreos (I especially ship Bellamy X oreos though)

**4:04PM**

**Shitmittens**

_wow_

**4:04PM**

**Shitmittens**

_so let me get this straight_

**4:04PM**

**Clarke McDipshit**

_oh god monty pls no_

**4:04:PM**

**Shitmittens**

_you went back to your home_

_town_

**4:04PM**

**Shitmittens**

_and didn’t expect to run into_

_any familiar faces..._

**4:05PM**

**Shitmittens**

_when you moved into a place_

_that’s literally less than 5min_

_from your old house…_

**4:05PM**

**Clarke McDipshit**

_well when you put it like that i_

_sound incredibly stupid_

**4:05PM**

**Shitmittens**

_and you met your long lost_

_gal pal from high school_

**4:05PM**

**Clarke McDipshit**

_i know what that reference means_

_monty i’m not ENTIRELY in the dark_

**4:06PM**

**Clarke McDipshit**

_we weren’t like that_

**4:06PM**

**Shitmittens**

_mmhmm sure_

**4:06PM**

**Shitmittens**

_so anyway_

**4:06PM**

**Shitmittens**

_you have now come to me for_

_dating advice or something?_

**4:06PM**

**Clarke McDipshit**

_NO_

**4:06PM**

**Clarke McDipshit**

_tbh i just needed to voice my_

_anxiety_

**4:07PM**

**Clarke McDipshit**

_bc i’m meeting her again in like_

_8 min_

**4:07PM**

**Clarke McDipshit**

_and i’m freaking the hell out_

_pls help me monty_

**4:07PM**

**Shitmittens**

_shhhhhh hush child you have_

_come to the right place_

**4:08PM**

**Shitmittens**

_although i’m not sure why i’m_

_helping you considering how you_

_stole the last oreos at jerkbucket’s_

_place_

**4:08PM**

**Shitmittens**

_and now i have nothing good to_

_eat here and it’s honestly such a_

_tragedy_

**4:08PM**

**Clarke McDipshit**

_what is it with you ppl and the_

_goddamn oreos???_

**4:08PM**

**Shitmittens**

_BUT since i’m such a forgiving_

_friend i can put it behind me_

**4:09PM**

**Shitmittens**

_so what happened with you and_

_this girl anyway?_

**4:09PM**

**Shitmittens**

_why didn’t you stay friends?_

**4:09PM**

**Clarke McDipshit**

_idk… it’s complicated… or_

_maybe it just feels complicated_

**4:09PM**

**Clarke McDipshit**

_we wanted to keep in touch when_

_i found out i was moving to boston_

**4:09PM**

**Clarke McDipshit**

_but after the move we just kind of_

_stopped talking_

**4:09PM**

**Clarke McDipshit**

_by the time my family came back_

_down to annapolis we hadn’t spoken_

_for a long time_

**4:10PM**

**Clarke McDipshit**

_that’s why i don’t want to screw_

_this up_

**4:10PM**

**Clarke McDipshit**

_second chances don’t grow on_

_trees_

**4:10PM**

**Shitmittens**

_you’ll be amazing clarke_

**4:11PM**

**Shitmittens**

_awesome ppl like you don’t_

_come around very often either_

**4:11PM**

**Shitmittens**

_she’d be lucky to say she has_

_someone like you in her life_

**4:11PM**

**Clarke McDipshit**

_thanks shitmittens_

**4:12PM**

**Shitmittens**

_no problem dipshit_

**4:12PM**

**Shitmittens**

_now go get your girl_

* * *

“Do I get an explanation?”

Lexa had to give her credit. Anya had waited until the end of the day to ask this question, far longer than her curiosity usually allowed her. In the nearly four hours since she’d returned to the shop -- an expression somewhere between a subdued grin and a grimace plastered onto her face, for which Anya hadn’t even bothered to hide her amusement -- Lexa had been admittedly a mess compared to her usual standards. She’d expected cracks of “Somebody’s whipped” (she wasn’t) or at least some kind of reaction from Anya, but thus far there had been none.

(To be fair though, she wasn’t sure whether Anya had decided to spare her or if she was just saving up these remarks for later.)

“You would if I had an explanation to give you,” was Lexa’s reply.

“Does that mean that when the two of you went for coffee at lunch, neither of you spoke a word and she didn’t tell you anything about what she’s doing here, when she got here, why she ended up in our shop? I don’t think so.”

_Lord help me._

“She needed a change of scenery, that’s all she told me. And she doesn’t even know how she ended up in Woods Flowers, okay?”

“Not okay. I’m gonna need more than that.”

“Why.”

“ _Because_ ,” Anya began, planting her hands firmly on both of Lexa’s shoulders, “you won’t fucking stand still. You won’t stop pacing. If she’s going to have you this twisted up, you can bet your ass I’ll be curious about the reason.”

Three hours and forty-two minutes for Anya to bring up Lexa’s nerves. That could’ve been a record. Lexa was almost impressed, considering this would be perfect blackmail material for Anya.

“I haven’t seen my best friend in eight years,” was all Lexa offered as explanation for her pacing. She could be embarrassed about this later -- and she definitely would get embarrassed about it at some point, mortified even, because she _never_ let herself get into a state like this -- but for now she didn’t have time. She was going to be meeting Clarke in just a few minutes.

“Clarke… your best friend? It’s not just that you haven’t _seen_ her in eight years, you haven’t _spoken_ to her in eight years either. You haven’t been best friends since she went to Boston.”

“ _Anya,_ ” Lexa began in warning. “I don’t have to deal with this right now.”

“She wasn’t here when _you_ were saying goodbye to Wells. She wasn’t even here when Wells got _back_ ,” Anya said simply.

“ _Stop_. Times change, but I can give this a shot.”

Lexa continued moving about from the counter to the aisles, not entirely sure what to do with herself while waiting.

“I swear to God, Lex, if you don’t stay still I will staple your shoes to the ground,” Anya said in exasperation, giving a withering glance up at the pacing Lexa. “You know I will, too.”

Lexa knew quite well that Anya would, seeing as the woman had done it before. Anya wasn’t one to bluff. More often than not, she came through with her threats.

“You really think there’s a shot this can work out?” Lexa nodded. “Then I still don’t completely understand why you’re so nervous,” Anya said, spurring an incredulous look from Lexa. Anya only gave a short laugh before continuing. “Clarke has never made you tense in the past. It _stands to reason_ that things will be much the same.”

“ _It stands to reason_ that we’re both quite different from when we were kids,” Lexa went on.

“How much could she have changed?” Anya asked, seemingly taking a new stance on this issue than from a minute ago. Lexa sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Yes, Lexa wanted to fix things with Clarke, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to acknowledge the fact that _maybe_ that wasn’t possible. She didn’t know how different or the same they both were, so she shot back the only response that came to mind.

“How much do you think _I’ve_ changed since I was fifteen?”

“You’re not my annoying little baby cousin anymore at least, that’s for sure. Although you _are_ still pretty damn annoying,” Anya laughed again, jumping over Lexa’s question. “Look Lexa, if you’re this jumpy over the idea of meeting her then why are you bothering to meet her in the first place?”

For half a second, unabashed anger bubbled up inside of Lexa, before she caught the knowing grin on Anya’s face and realized what the woman was doing.

“Because I haven’t seen or talked to her for a long time. Because second chances don’t grow on trees,” Lexa said, her voice cool and stoic in that way she’d perfected over the past few years.

_Because Clarke is worth getting nervous about,_ was what she didn’t say, but it was implied.

“You want something in life, Lex, you’ve gotta grab it.”

Lexa often wondered if Anya ever realized how often she repeated old snippets of advice, because this was definitely something she’d heard from her cousin several times in the past, and something Lexa probably understood better than Anya did at any rate.

“Right.”

“Believe it or not, I really want this to go okay too,” Anya went on. “I miss her too. I wonder if she can still beat me in Mario Kart…”

A knock on the door interrupted them, and Lexa’s heart skipped a beat in her chest. Clarke was standing just outside the store, grinning ear to ear and waving inside through the glass at them.

Many thoughts ran through Lexa’s mind at once. _Here we go. She looks nice. Did I change out of the shirt with the green stain? Let’s hope I don’t screw this up, otherwise Anya will miss out on a Mario Kart partner._ And these thoughts were punctuated by a swooping sensation in her lower stomach.

_Okay, this is ridiculous. I do_ not _get butterflies._

“Have fun, kiddies,” Anya called as Lexa left the shop. Clarke chuckled lightly.

“Hey,” Clarke murmured with a smile, one that had Lexa forming a little half-smile of her own.

“Hey.”

And then tension in her body slowly ebbed away, and Lexa found herself wondering why she thought she had to be quite so afraid of Clarke. Here in her presence, Clarke seemed to Lexa perfectly harmless.

* * *

**4:45PM**

**Fucknugget Octopoda**

_should i be offended?_

**4:45PM**

**Fucknugget Octopoda**

_i think i should be offended_

**4:45PM**

**Fucknugget Octopoda**

_i am offended_

**4:46PM**

**Assclown Jas**

_for what reason are you offended?_

**4:46PM**

**Fucknugget Octopoda**

_bc dipshit promised to call_

**4:46PM**

**Fucknugget Octopoda**

_i’m still waiting on a call_

**4:46PM**

**Fucknugget Octopoda**

_i think i’m offended_

**4:47PM**

**Assclown Jas**

_i’m more offended by the lack of_

_of oreos at bell’s place rn_

**4:47PM**

**Assclown Jas**

_which i am told is bc of said_

_dipshit_

**4:47PM**

**Fucknugget Octopoda**

_jasper this is a serious matter_

**4:48PM**

**Assclown Jas**

_are you implying that oreos are_

_NOT a serious matter?????_

**4:48PM**

**Assclown Jas**

_et tu, fucknugget?_

**4:48PM**

**Assclown Jas**

_for shame…._

**4:49PM**

**Fucknugget Octopoda**

_i swear do i have to be everyone’s_

_mother??? ughhh_

**4:49PM**

**Assclown Jas**

_sorry the position of Mom Friend_

_has already been filled by your_

_brother_

**4:49PM**

**Assclown Jas**

_at any rate dipshit didn’t blow you_

_off (on purpose) shitmittens says_

_she’s been… sidetracked_

**4:50PM**

**Fucknugget Octopoda**

_sidetracked?_

**4:50PM**

**Assclown Jas**

_yeah something to do with a_

_girl or something idk_

**4:52PM**

**Fucknugget Octopoda**

_…._

**4:52PM**

**Fucknugget Octopoda**

_a girl….?_

**4:52PM**

**Assclown Jas**

_yerp :P_

**4:53PM**

**Fucknugget Octopoda**

_well then. that changes things._

**4:53PM**

**Fucknugget Octopoda**

_still tho if she doesn’t call by the_

_end of the day i’m killing her with_

_my bare hands_

**4:54PM**

**Assclown Jas**

_i do not doubt it_

**4:54PM**

**Assclown Jas**

_so what are we gonna do about her?_

**4:55PM**

**Fucknugget Octopoda**

_well that’s why i need her to call_

_soon_

**4:55PM**

**Fucknugget Octopoda**

_to check on her_

**4:55PM**

**Fucknugget Octopoda**

_she needs to talk to us and she_

_needs us to talk to her_

**4:56PM**

**Fucknugget Octopoda**

_she thinks she’s a gd pariah or_

_the spawn of the devil or something_

**4:56PM**

**Assclown Jas**

_well idk man who steals the last_

_package of oreos if not someone_

_evil?????_

**4:56PM**

**Assclown Jas**

_before you yell at me, that was a_

_joke_

**4:57PM**

**Fucknugget Octopoda**

_for gods sakes just buy another_

_box they aren’t even expensive_

**4:57PM**

**Assclown Jas**

_ANYWAY_

**4:57PM**

**Assclown Jas**

_let me know if she calls ok?_

__

**4:58PM**

**Assclown Jas**

_i’m still mad about her ditching but_

_i want to know that she’s okay_

**4:58PM**

**Fucknugget Octopoda**

_no problem assclown_

**4:58PM**

**Fucknugget Octopoda**

_i’ll let you know if/when she calls_

**4:59PM**

**Assclown Jas**

_thanks_

**4:59PM**

**Assclown Jas**

_and let’s consider sending a bullet_

_proof vest or chainmail armor to her_

**4:59PM**

**Assclown Jas**

_she’s gonna need it once ray gets_

_a hold of her_

**4:59PM**

**Assclown Jas**

_i’d hate to get in the way of that_

_shitstorm_

__

**5:00PM**

**Fucknugget Octopoda**

_coming from experience, douchesocket_

_indeed has a nasty vengeance_

**5:00PM**

**Assclown Jas**

_may raven have mercy on her sorry_

_soul_

**5:01PM**

**Assclown Jas**

_i can almost hear MMM WHATCHA_

_SAYYY playing already_

__

**5:01PM**

**Fucknugget Octopoda**

_…….._

**5:01PM**

**Fucknugget Octopoda**

_jfc i need clarke back bc dealing with_

_all you obtuse curtain rods on my own_

_is more than what i can handle_

**5:02PM**

**Assclown Jas**

_“obtuse curtain rod” well that’s a_

_new one_

**5:02PM**

**Assclown Jas**

_*applause*_

* * *

Clarke observed the subtle change that took place in her friend over the course of less than a block. Lexa’s gaze was no longer fixated on the ground but settled comfortably in front of her. Her hands relaxed and her shoulders slackened a fraction of an inch. Clarke marveled at the woman’s ability to take control over her own nerves when Clarke’s own stomach was still twisting and turning. The blonde was astonished she could still read Lexa’s body language this well, and concluded that it was perhaps the type of ability that held on stubbornly, never completely going away no matter how many years go by.

Coffee earlier hadn’t been quiet so much as shocked silence. When Clarke had first walked into _Woods Flowers_ she had been lighter than she’d been in what seemed like a long time. Lexa, as it turned out, was the perfect distraction.

But that wore off as the shock ebbed away.

At coffee, Clarke had been jovial, with a skip in her step, offering excited smiles to Lexa while Lexa seemed unable to wrap her head around the events that had conspired over the past half hour of the brunette’s life. At coffee, Clarke had been more or less like her old self. Now, walking beside Lexa along the sidewalk in the direction of the park, her thoughts were creeping in on her in that all-too-familiar predatory fashion.

Now they were walking in dead silence, the kind that made Clarke squirm uncomfortably. Lexa wasn’t looking at her and Clarke worried that Lexa could hear her outrageously loud mind at play as Clarke fiddled with her hands and struggled with something, _anything_ , to say.

In all honesty, Clarke had been expecting the awkwardness. She’d been expecting tentative conversations and the “How have you been?” and “What’s changed?” questions to end quietly and without elaboration, without any new words to fill the void. This is what she was expecting during the simple walk in the park she’d suggested, and this was exactly what she got.

She’d been expecting pauses filled with heavy silences, and never quite knowing what to talk about or what subjects were _A-Okay_ or _Not-To-Be-Mentioned_. Clarke wasn’t sure whether their history meant she could or should be asking questions that might be personal, or if their time apart meant they had to start from scratch. Clarke wasn’t even sure which of the two she wanted.

Starting over was a scary thought, implying that what had been present previously must now be discarded, but it carried with it a refreshing ring. One that Clarke had longed for, all too much in the previous weeks and months.

Picking things up where they left off, well that certainly _sounded_ nice, but Clarke wasn’t sure if she was exactly “friend material” at the moment. Clarke could entertain the little fantasies springing around in her head about how she could hide away here in D.C. and her other friends won’t have to deal with her screwed up head, and if Lexa didn’t know about everything then she could just enjoy the brunette’s company and everything could work out for once and maybe everything won’t dissolve in her hands again. Picking things up could mean the relief she craved but didn’t dare believe she would ever deserve. She needed a break and Lexa was the very definition of relief, past experience had made quite clear. However, picking things up felt like a childish fantasy, a whim that once reconsidered would turn out to be impossible. Picking things up always sounded nice but it usually just meant you were deluding yourself. Lexa was not a means to absolution.

Clarke felt Lexa’s hand loop around her own as they walked through the old park, and Clarke’s stomach flipped again. She could feel Lexa’s eyes on her and Clarke wondered if the brunette had caught a glimpse of the battle raging inside her head.

_Why am I even considering this? Why am I freaking out?_

The question rose from two separate parts of Clarke’s mind. The first part wondered why she was making such a big deal out of something that would probably end in nothing. The second part wondered why she felt the need to rage over this and make a big deal out of it when she _knew_ Lexa was no real cause for anxiety, not because she didn’t matter but because Lexa always had an incredible talent of relieving tension. Years ago, Lexa had been the person who could read Clarke better than anyone. The two of them were in sync. People used to tell them it was kind of scary how in tune with each other, the same way she, Raven, and Octavia got those same comments later on.

Lexa rubbed her thumb over Clarke’s knuckles absentmindedly. Clarke’s chest tightened with something in between melancholy and longing.

Clarke had expected awkwardness, but beyond that she had no idea what else to expect.

“I’ve heard before that artists blank out a lot,” Lexa said, breaking through the quiet. “Not much has changed in that regard I see. Remember that time you were daydreaming and got hit in the face with a frisbee?”

Clarke couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped her at that, despite the pink now tinging her cheeks.

“I’ve tried very hard to wipe it from my memory altogether, actually.”

“I’m surprised that’s even necessary. You got hit pretty hard, it’s shocking it didn’t give you amnesia.”

Clarke chuckled, cringing at the picture in her head of the flash of the white disk before the jolt that knocked her senses silly.

“Myles was sorry he threw it, and you got a good laugh out of it,” Clarke said, a small smile settling across her lips.

“Gym class. Gotta love it.”

The both of them made a face and cringed at the same moment, and when Clarke looked up she found that Lexa was giving her a soft half smile, controlled but almost shy. It was gone a second later as the two of them fell back into silence, but the quiet was much lighter now. More comfortable.

“I was out here this morning for the sunrise,” Clarke said eventually as they settled on the bench Clarke had been drawing on earlier. “I’ve been meaning to come here all week, wanted to kick things off right.”

“Sounds just like you,” Lexa said, resting her hands on her knees and looking in the direction of the river. It was dark now, that part of the sky, and casting a light purple shadow over the water. The brunette let out a small, barely audible sigh, her shoulders stiff but her expression mellow.

“I missed you,” Lexa said finally, still looking in the direction of the river as Clarke’s stomach flipped again.

“Yeah, me too.”

A smile slowly spread across Lexa’s face as she erupted into small, barely controlled giggles.

“What?” Clarke asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about the last time we were down here, the state you were in.”

“Oh my god.”

“When you had a bloody nose from falling off your longboard.”

“Do not.”

“And spilled your root beer float all over your head.”

“That was your fault and you know it.”

“And the raccoon that followed us home because you smelled like vanilla ice cream.”

“ _Lexa I am warning you._ ”

“And we went to Anya’s apartment because you didn’t want your mom to see you with the bloody nose and black eye.”

“Lexa!”

“And Anya was _laughing_. So hard she couldn’t breathe.”

Lexa was laughing pretty hard at this point as well. Clarke tried her best to maintain a bitter scowl but failed miserably as Lexa’s giggles gained volume.

"Nostalgia's a jackass and so are you. Does Anya still have the pictures from that?”

“She never throws away blackmail material, never,” Lexa said with a grin, her laughs dying down until she was sitting there with an easygoing expression on her face. She turned back to Clarke. “Wanna go back to my place? We can order some takeout and I’ve got the Harry Potter movies on DVD.”

Clarke grinned.

“That’s sounds brilliant.”

* * *

**5:06PM**

**Jerkbucket Blake**

_Progress report on Clarke?_

**5:07PM**

**JJ Assclown**

_is this some kind of official_

_stakeout mission now?_

**5:07PM**

**Jerkbucket Blake**

_No. Just answer the question._

**5:07PM**

**JJ Assclown**

_your sister’s on it, over and out,_

_sir yes sir_

**5:07PM**

**Jerkbucket Blake**

_Is the attitude necessary?_

**5:08PM**

**JJ Assclown**

_apologies oh mother of mine_

* * *

Clarke had been expecting awkwardness, but this? This was a disaster. Not the kind of disaster she’d seen coming, but a disaster nonetheless.

“Okay okay, what about the time in ninth grade with Connor --”

“We are not reliving that horror story of embarrassment.”

“But even after the explosion I bet you thought he looked good without his eyebrows.”

“He didn’t speak to me for five months after that!”

“Yeah, way to ruin all the work I had to do as your wingman.”

Yep. A beautiful and mortifying disaster this evening was, and Clarke was enjoying every second of it. Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince was playing in the background, but they hardly played it any mind. There was something about the way Lexa’s eyes would shine when trying to think of memories to embarrass Clarke that made the blonde’s chest flutter, but she couldn’t place what it was.

“Well, you were a pretty lousy wingman.”

“But you weren’t complaining when he ended up asking you out.”

Clarke laughed. “Well, you ended up complaining about it quite a bit.”

Lexa’s cheeks turned a shade pinker and Clarke had to throw a hand over her mouth to keep from guffawing despite how endearing the image was.

“Well, he was an ass.”

“No more than that girl, what was her name, Erin?”

Lexa’s cheeks went beet red as the brunette tried to make her expression appear indifferent.

“She was not my shining moment, I’ll give you that,” Lexa said, cheeks flushing pink at the admission. Clarke’s chest tightened at how cute Lexa could be when embarrassed. “It was endearing and amusing to see how Wells reacted when he found her with that other girl. I’m surprised he didn’t get suspended, I could hear him yelling two hallways away.”

“Erin had nothing on Luna, that’s for sure. Then again, I don’t think there are many people who could measure up to Luna.”

“Some people can,” Lexa said with a controlled half smile, before going quiet again.

That was something Clarke couldn’t help but notice. Lexa kept doing that, saying something and then suddenly falling back into silence. She didn’t ask what that meant, but it made her chest tighten a little bit.

So Clarke kept talking, wanting to fill the silence and the nostalgia seemed to have a voice of its own. She pulled up memories, some of them cringe-worthy and others leaving the pair of them struggling to contain their laughter. Each time Lexa laughed, Clarke’s stomach flopped and she felt like pieces of herself were settling comfortably into place; Clarke decided that she wanted to hear that sound as much as she possibly could. So, she continued with the stories.

She recounted the time Clarke dragged Lexa to the high school party, where they both got terrifically drunk and had a time trying to hide it from their families. Anya had been a life saver in that endeavor, but that didn’t stop the lecture Lexa’s older cousin had still given them about the alcohol (although Anya then proceeded to tease Lexa endlessly about how much of lightweight she was).

She talked about the incident where Clarke had dared Lexa to a challenge with their bikes that ended in Clarke getting a small concussion and Lexa sporting what was now the scar on the side of her neck, as well as one wrecked bicycle and a dented mailbox.

Clarke recalled the summer when they were eleven when she’d been sick with what she thought was a cold (which actually turned out to be the early stages of influenza), and then later ended up in the hospital with pneumonia. Clarke didn’t remember much about the first night at the hospital, seeing as she hadn’t been conscious for most of it. When she woke up fully she found her mother and father slumped over in chairs beside her bed, sleeping after a restless night. Lexa was waiting outside her room, sleep pulling at her wet eyes and her hands shaking, and she had been there holding her hand when Clarke found out just how badly she’d been sick. Clarke didn’t mention how her stomach had churned horribly when she’d seen the fear in Lexa’s eyes back then, still present even after she’d been given the all-clear.

Lexa gently reminded Clarke that the blonde had felt the same way when she’d waited at the hospital all night and day after Lexa’s appendix burst. Clarke’s heart clenched at the memory. They were fourteen, and up until that point, nothing had scared Clarke quite so much in her life. For a night and day, she’d thought one of her only two best friends would be gone. Clarke’s chest now ached painfully as she thought about how even after all that, she’d let their friendship slip through the cracks. She’d let _both_ of the two relationships dissolve without even putting up a fight. And now, looking at Lexa and seeing the way the other girl had a comfortable and relaxed expression on her face as she watched Clarke curiously, Clarke felt that out of everything in her life that she’d managed to screw up, letting her best friends go was one of her worst blows.

And that was saying something.

“I remember that day though, when you came into my room and you looked so nervous,” Lexa said, jarring Clarke from her thoughts.

Clarke had forgotten that the conversation was still going and that Lexa (hopefully) couldn’t hear the rampaging storm inside Clarke’s head.

“You were fiddling with a page from your sketchbook in your hands,” Lexa went on, a small smile pulling at her lips that sent a rush of affection through Clarke. “That was one of the best flowers you’ve ever drawn, you know. You had a knack for knowing exactly when I’d need one.”

“Ah yes, the flowers,” Clarke said, remembering the pastel drawing of the orchid she’d given to Lexa after she woke up from surgery, and all the ones she’d created before and after that. “To be fair, it wasn’t exactly difficult to know you’d need one that day, considering the whole fighting for your life thing.” Clarke smiled as she said this but the thought still gave her chills.

“You’re a total sap but I did like them. Love them, actually,” Lexa said.

The flowers. It was something Clarke had started doing for Lexa in elementary school. There were things, special things, Clarke did for each of her friends. With Wells, she’d get him books or go with him to the museums whenever he was upset. Later on, when Raven was having a bad day, she’d get their shared favorite takeout (the Puerto Rican restaurant on their street was _phenomenal_ ) and they’d watch hilariously bad romcoms. For Octavia, she’d go with the other girl on hikes (and internally hope Octavia knew what a good friend Clarke was for subjecting herself to that torture). Bellamy liked to hang out at the animal shelter to lift his spirits. Monty just needed a good long conversation (and plenty of online video games) when he was upset. And with Jasper, she’d just get out her guitar and he’d get his and the two of them would play some Never Shout Never songs (Jasper’s favorite band, it always worked). She had something like that for all of her friends. The flowers were what she and Lexa had.

It started one day in fifth grade during art class. Their project had been to make a pottery bowl. The one Lexa had been working on for a week ended up exploding in the kiln, and so to cheer her up, Clarke had gotten out some water colors and painted a little white and purple violet for her. Flowers were one thing that always had a calming effect on Lexa, a fact that Clarke used to find funny (Lexa’s whole shy-but-intimidating vibe plus the flowers didn’t seem like it should add up) but Clarke later grew to think of as completely fitting. As the girl got older and spent more time keeping out of her house and more time lying beneath the cherry blossom tree or in patches of dandelions (anywhere that was outside and nice smelling, essentially) it seemed so completely _Lexa_. After the first painting of the violet, Clarke would paint or draw flowers for her on special occasions or whenever Lexa was upset. Even in high school, years after the first painting, Clarke would get a thrill out of watching Lexa try not to smile when Clarke handed the flowers to her.

Looking back, Clarke thought it was very poetic that Lexa had gone on to be a florist.

“So, what have you been up to?” Clarke asked then, and regretted the words almost as soon as they left her mouth, even before she could see Lexa’s reaction.

The response was subtle but it was there. Lexa’s shoulders tightened with tension once again. Her eyes became blank. Hands that had been loosely tapping the couch were now pulled into tight fists. Her words were solid, confident, and quick as she responded.

“It’s been pretty boring over the last few years. Not a lot has happened,” Lexa said, and Clarke knew she’d hit one of those Not-To-Be-Mentioned topics, so she decided to let it go for the time being. A thrill of anxiety shot through her when Lexa returned the question in a formal tone: “And you?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” Clarke said offhandedly, trailing off at the end of her sentence as her thoughts took her away again. She absentmindedly added, “Pretty damn boring,” and wished it were true.

Lexa’s relaxed exterior resumed for the most part a minute later, just as Harry Potter was presented with the Felix Felicis potion in the background. Lexa gave Clarke a half smile and whispered, “I would offer to rewind to see what we’ve missed, but I know for a fact you’ve seen this at least twenty more times than I have.”

Clarke laughed and shifted closer to Lexa on the couch to resume watching the movie, her heartbeat quickening as Lexa moved closer as well so that their legs were touching where they sat. Clarke tried to focus on how lucky she was to be able to do this again, instead of focusing on the way Lexa’s shoulders were still slumped and tense and the fact that Lexa had a reason for it but had decided not to tell her.

She could worry about all of their problems later.

* * *

**5:30PM**

**Fucknugget Blake**

_forgetting something? -_-_

**5:32PM**

**Princess Dipshit**

_oh shit sorry_

**5:32PM**

**Fucknugget Blake**

_you should be >:(_

**5:32PM**

**Princess Dipshit**

_i got sidetracked O (kinda still am_

_atm) (she’s in the bathroom) but i’ll_

_make it up to you_

**5:32PM**

**Fucknugget Blake**

_well since i am such an amazing_

_perfect wonderful friend_

**5:33PM**

**Fucknugget Blake**

_i may be able to forgive you_

**5:33PM**

**Fucknugget Blake**

_depending on what you mean by_

_“i’ll make it up to you”_

**5:33PM**

**Fucknugget Blake**

_bc remember griffin i have a_

_boyfriend_

**5:33PM**

**Princess Dipshit**

_why can’t i ever say anything w/out_

_you turning it into an innuendo_

**5:33PM**

**Fucknugget Blake**

_inYOURendo ;)_

**5:34PM**

**Princess Dipshit**

_my mom doesn’t really work in the_

_psych ward but i’m sure she can find_

_you a nice room there_

**5:34PM**

**Fucknugget Blake**

_excellent comeback_

**5:34PM**

**Princess Dipshit**

_anyway i meant that i’ll call you later_

_bc i kinda have a lot to talk about_

**5:34PM**

**Fucknugget Blake**

_i heard all about it through the_

_grapevine :P_

**5:35PM**

**Fucknugget Blake**

_hope ur havin fun on ur date ;)_

**5:35PM**

**Princess Dipshit**

_IT. IS. NOT. A. DATE._

**5:35PM**

**Fucknugget Blake**

_chillax griff i’m just teasing_

**5:35PM**

**Fucknugget Blake**

_*cough*cough*DENIAL*cough*cough*_

**5:35PM**

**Princess Dipshit**

_i literally picked up and moved out_

_of the state and yet you still manage_

_to torment me_

* * *

Lexa couldn’t pinpoint the exact time that evening when her nerves completely died down. All she knew was that the anxiety about spending the afternoon with Clarke had been replaced with a steady -- she couldn’t quite describe it, had never been able to describe it -- hum? It was ever present, and all too familiar when it came to the blonde sitting less than a foot away from her.

The movie had ended just a few minutes ago. She’d ordered some food about ten minutes before it ended and while they were waiting, instead of playing another of the movies, they’d managed to get themselves caught up in an intense debate over Severus Snape.

So far, the only thing they’ve solidly agreed upon was the unfortunate naming of Albus _Severus_ Potter. Nothing else.

“I’m not saying Snape was a nice person --”

“I would hope not, considering he spent the better part of seven books abusing his stu--”

“I _know_ he was a dick, Lex, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t _brave_.”

“And is bravery supposed to absolve him of his sins, Clarke?” Lexa countered, calm yet serious and she couldn’t believe she was getting this passionate over _Harry Potter_ of all things. “His heroics do not make all of his horrible actions disappear. No matter what good he may have done, that doesn’t take away from the fact that he was unnecessarily awful.”

“I kinda think we’re arguing the same point here,” Clarke said slowly, almost distractedly. “How awful he was as a person doesn’t take away from the good he did, and the good he did doesn’t mean his slate is wiped clean.”

“Slates are never wiped clean, Clarke. They have good and bad marks added to them but those marks are there to stay.” Lexa felt like such a hypocrite as she said this, but she couldn’t stop the words still escaping her and she knew that she agreed with all of it. “Actions cannot be absolved, only accepted. All of what you do is on you, no one else. You can’t change the past and there’s no point trying. You can hammer a nail into a fence and then pull it back out, but in the end the fence still has a hole in it, no matter what apologies or promises of better actions you have to offer it.”

Coming out of her speech and looking back at the girl sitting beside her, she found Clarke staring at her.

“What?” Lexa asked.

Clarke’s cheeks turned pink, eyes traveling up and down Lexa’s face before settling on a spot on the couch. Lexa hadn’t realized they’d shifted closer together during their debate, but suddenly the close proximity was very obvious and glaring but not at all unwelcome.

“You just don’t usually get this fired up about… well… anything,” Clarke said, eyes lifting back up to Lexa’s face. “At least, not that I’ve seen.”

“I have a lot to say,” Lexa replied quietly. Her heart picked up speed in her chest.

“I could tell,” Clarke said with a small grin. Lexa licked her lips and Clarke’s eyes followed the action. “I like it.”

Lexa wasn’t entirely aware of what was happening as her mind began to spin and blur the way it had done earlier that day when Clarke had first come into the shop, but she could definitely register that one or both of them were starting to lean in toward each other.

How it got to this point, Lexa hadn’t a clue.

(The flips her stomach made and the ongoing buzz in her chest said that she did have a clue, but it was simpler to claim ignorance than to acknowledge that Clarke may have actually been experiencing similar feelings -- because _that_ , well… that just wasn’t logical.)

Clarke was staring at Lexa’s lips and Lexa realized that it was indeed Clarke who was leaning in. The electric buzz in her chest heated and rose and Lexa’s mind wouldn’t allow her to think the thoughts that she should’ve been thinking, thoughts such as _we shouldn’t be doing this_ or _I’ve never let myself consider this before_ or _I only just finally started to make things right with her and this will ruin everything_. The only tangible thought her mind could focus on was the fact that Clarke’s face was only inches from her own and how badly she wanted to close that distance.

_**RING!** _

Clarke let out a curse and they jumped apart, turning their heads in the direction of the door where the offending noise had issued. It was the doorbell.

“Um, food’s here,” Lexa said quietly, her face burning. She went to answer the door and marveled at the fact that her legs hadn’t gone to jello again.

“Are there egg rolls?” Clarke asked, her face still pink, when Lexa returned carrying the bag of Chinese takeout.

Lexa handed her the rolls and a container of sauce, and Clarke grinned as Lexa popped the next DVD in and the first Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows movie started up. They shifted back into their old positions on the couch, both of them determined to pretend that what had just happened between them never happened at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about all the HP references (unless by some chance you haven't read/watched HP, then I'm not sorry at all and you need to get on that right now).
> 
> That story about the Frisbee is something that happened to me, actually (even I think it was funny though). Oh and something else that's funny: I told my friends that I was having everyone in the story I'm writing have insults as each other's nicknames/contact names, and long story short, my entire friend group is doing that now. In case you were wondering, I have been dubbed Fucknugget.
> 
> Anyway, let me know in the comments section what you thought of the chapter, or watch me freak out about this AU on Tumblr

**Author's Note:**

> Watch me freak out about this AU on Tumblr. My url there buffysummersociety.tumblr.com and I'll tag anything on there having to do with this fic as #clexa tafau


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